The Reward for a Job Well Done
“Now lass,” Brynjolf warned with a hand on her shoulder, “Goldenglow estate is no easy task. Even our little Vex here couldn’t get in.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sonin placed a reassuring hand over his, “Vex doesn’t have magic like I do.”
Vex snorts in the distance before Brynjolf replies, “I know, lass. I know.” He suddenly smirks at the memory of their first time together, “Although, maybe you should show me that magic of yours again before you go.”
“Ha! You wish,” Sonin pushes him playfully off of her, “I’ll head out now. It’s dusk so it’ll be dark by the time I get there. Get ready to count all the gold I bring back!”
“Aye,” Brynjolf’s smile fades as she ascends the ladder from their hideout.
…
Sonin breaths hard, each gasp for air like glass scraping her lungs. She cast another weak restoration spell, so close to being out of magicka. Guards can be heard running through the estate looking for her. She’s on the ground now, trying to catch her breath enough to shout.
Three men rush into the room she lays at. With a ragged breath, she releases an unrelenting shout and casts them all flying back. Their skulls split on impact. Sonin is not without damage too though, the gash in her side ripping longer at the intensity of her shout.
“If I die here Brynjolf is never going to let me live it down,” Sonin gives a short, harsh laugh at herself.
She stands on unsteady feet, swaying slightly with the seller’s note in her hand. Why sell the estate? Sonin uses the walls of the sewers for support as she waddles her way back to the Rataway.
…
“Lass!” Brynjolf rushes to a staggering Sonin at the ladder of their hideout. He had been at Mercer’s side at his table, watching the entrance for her safe return. Ideas of what to do with her playing in his head to drown out his worry.
“I’m fine,” Sonin coughed up a little blood and grasped her side.
“What happened to you?” Brynjolf pushed aside the note she tried to hand him and started lifting at her new guild armor to see the wound. “Damn, lass. That’s bad.”
“I just need a magicka potion in my bag,” Sonin assured him, “Nothing I can’t handle. Here, take this. This is all there was to find aside from gold.”
Brynjolf took the note and opened it, but only after searching her face for signs of further distress. The other guild members watched their second fussing over the mysterious woman with wonder. Brynjolf frowned and passed the note to Mercer, who just finished walking across the Cistern to them.
“Goldenglow was being sold under Maven’s nose,” Brynjolf said to Mercer as he scanned the note several times, “She won’t like that. I’m going to take the lass to my room to heal up.”
“Go then,” Mercer grumbled and made his way back to his table with a deep frown.
“Does this hurt?” Brynjolf questioned as he wrapped a supportive arm around Sonin.
“Yes,” she chuckled softly, “But that’s okay Bryn.”
“That’s right,” he smiled wickedly at her, “I seem to recall you enjoying a little pain.”
“Oh shut up,” she punched his chest lightly as they reached his room.
Brynjolf set her delicately on his bed, which was just a mattress of straw with a plush sheet over it and some throw pelts as blankets. He searched her bag, finding the potion she needed quickly and uncorking it for her. His eyes never left her as she drank the bitter liquid and cast a restoration spell on herself.
“Better?” He asked, full of worry.
“Of course,” she smiled, “I’ve survived much worse than this.”
“How did you get it?” He questioned.
“One of the guards there, he…” Sonin’s voice croaked, “...reminded me of someone dear that I lost. I got distracted for a second and his axe found me.”
“Damn,” Brynjolf put a gentle hand on the back of her head and pulled her in enough to place a soft kiss on her forehead, “I was worried sick about you.”
“Oh I’m sure you say that to all the women in your bed,” Sonin teased.
“I’ll have you know,” he smirked at her, “You’re the only one who gets the pleasure of interrupting my thoughts of the guild.”
“Do I now?” She put an electrified hand on his upper thigh, the energy going straight to his cock.
“Divines,” he muttered with a groan and pressed his head into the crook of her neck.
“You’re too easy,” Sonin laughed and took her hand away.
“Maybe, but you’re too perfect lass,” he spoke muffled into her skin, her body growing very warm at his hot breath.
“Sorry I teased you, I don’t think I’m up to do anything yet,” Sonin suddenly was very conscious of his hard erection.
“No that’s alright lass,” he guided her down onto the bed with both hands on her back, pressing his body into her to force her down.
“What are you doing?” Sonin questioned with no intention to stop the handsome man.
“Nothing,” his voice raised slightly, his hands finding and expertly unclasping each buckle of her armor.
“Wait, what-oh,” she melted into his touch as his warm hands pressed and massaged into her thighs.
“Want me to stop?” He asked.
“Not yet,” Sonin smirked, “Want to see where this is going.”
“That’s my girl,” he removed her armor down to her small clothes, his hands palming her legs and thighs.
Sonin arched into his touch, “I don’t think I’ve had a massage in years. Is this how you reward all your guild members for a job well done?”
“Just the really pretty, magically inclined ones,” his grin was too much and made Sonin hot despite the cool air around them.
“You look like you want to eat m-oh. OH!” Sonin tossed her head back as Brynjolf quickly brought his head between her legs and licked her slit, her underwear pushed to the side with a finger. “By the Nine,” Sonin’s back arched into him, “Bryn I-fuck.”
She felt the vibrations of a chuckle from him. Brynjolf’s hands stayed working every tense muscle of her legs while he leisurely licked her every fold. She tasted musky from the sweat of her adventure, but Brynjolf liked that. Most women he trusted enough to eat out weren’t the kind of women that let themselves get sweaty, even during sex.
“I haven’t even washed- Ah!” Sonin yelped as he lightly bit her clit for suggesting something was wrong with her being dirty. “Fine, fine,” she sighed in pleasure as a finger was slid in, “But come on Bryn. I still have blood- BRYN!” Sonin’s upper body came rising up as his fingernail dug painfully sweet into her g-spot. She wrapped her hands into his hair as his devilish tongue worked her pearl.
“Fuck, FUCK me,” she grinded her hips down against his face as three fingers stretched her soaking entrance.
Brynjolf muttered something into her about ‘planning to’ that was mostly unintelligible between being buried as deep as he could be between her legs and over the wanton sounds spilling from her lips. Sonin’s thighs squeezed tight around his head as she approached her orgasm. Brynjolf quickened his fingers, curling them so well it bordered painful pleasure. He suckled her clit while rolling his tongue on it, something that her previous male lovers never quite got the hang of.
“Niid, geh, geh!” Sonin fell into dragon’s tongue, “hi kos krii zu'u.”
She came with a cry laced with her thu’um as Brynjolf bit her oversensitized numb and pressed a thumb to her other hole. He relished in the way her voice made his furniture shake and the sheer amount of liquid that spilled from her and splashed his face.
“I’ve been wanting to repay you for the first time, lass,” Brynjolf spoke as he lifted himself from her legs. “What was that language you used?”
“Oh,” Sonin’s face and body was flushed, “Dragon. Sometimes it slips out when I can’t think in the Common tongue.”
“Good to know,” he smiled as he licked her flavor from his lips, “I’ll assume it was good things you said.”
“Aye,” she let her legs flop open to display herself to him, “I think you deserve a release for that performance.”
Brynjolf closed her legs at the knees, “Another time,” Sonin frowned and he quickly added, “As you said, you aren’t up for some things right now.”
“You pleasured me without thinking about yourself?” Sonin questioned.
“Now who said I wasn’t thinking about myself?” He grabbed a pail of water and a washcloth from beside the bed.
Sonin sighed as he brought the cold water to her side, cleaning the freshly healed skin as though it were still a gaping wound. He took the time to really inspect the giant scar across her stomach, curious to know the story but smart enough to know not to ask women about such things.
“Dragon,” she answered his thoughts, “Nasty business, saving Skyrim and all.”
“I’d imagine,” he dried her side, “You could always just stay here. The guild could use you.”
“I’m sure,” Sonin chuckled, “But only temporarily. I still have some duties to return to.”
“Aye,” he brought himself up to her side in the bed and pulled a pelt over them, “But not tonight.”